


Our Feeble Disguises

by Catolyn



Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Identity Reveal, Steve and Matt would be bros, The law is blind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-20
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-24 22:45:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3787138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catolyn/pseuds/Catolyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint swears to Steve that the best pizza in New York is a hole-in-the-wall joint in Hell's Kitchen. After getting a pie Steve wanders the neighborhood until he hears someone getting their ass beat. Along the way he meets our favorite blind lawyer. Friendly bonding over drinks and a mutual dislike of bullies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Plot bunny from Tumblr and a tag saying they thought Matt and Steve would get along well. Also because as much as I adore reading Matt and Clint being dumpster bro’s it’s been written well by better writers than I.
> 
> Unbeta'd because I haven't been writing in ages.

Steve didn’t find himself in Hell’s Kitchen very often, but Clint promised him that New York’s finest pizza could be found in a dingy little hole-in-the-wall joint that didn’t deliver. Clint said he regularly made the trek from his apartment building in Bedstuy just to get pizza.

“Steve, you haven’t had pizza until you’ve gone to Bruno’s.” Clint had said, expression solemn.

“Pizza was around before I took a seventy year long nap, so I’m pretty sure I’ve had it before.”

Clint shook a finger at him. “Everyone thinks you’re so virtuous and shit. But you are just a giant freaking troll, Rogers. I’m trying to share life changing pizza with you and you mock me.”

Natasha reached over and ruffled Clint’s hair. “You make it so easy though.” Clint huffed, annoyed. “But as much as it pains me to say, he’s right. Best pizza in New York is Bruno’s.”

There’d been one thing and then another, and several days had passed before Steve found himself with a free evening and a craving for pizza. 

He grabbed a cab from his apartment in Brooklyn and chatted amiably with the cabbie who regaled him with a tall tale about a guy running around Hell’s Kitchen dressed in red and black wearing a helmet with horns that made Steve shake his head. He remembered seeing something in the paper when Fisk had been arrested about a new vigilante going by the rather odd, he thought, name of Daredevil. According to the cabbie the guy was still running around beating the snot out of people who probably deserved to have the snot beat out of them.

Steve paid his cab and got out at an uninspiring neon sign that simply proclaimed “Bruno’s Pizza”. Shrugging he pushed his way in, only to be greeted by the mouthwatering smell of perfectly cooked pizza.

The menu was written in chalk on a black board. There were two small tables with a pair of chairs each, opposite the tables was a high counter with a few stools. Most of the seats were filled. Snapping her gum aggressively was a skinny teenage girl with bright pink streaks in her blonde hair managing the register at the back of the shop. She gave Steve a frankly assessing look.

“What’ll it be?” 

He glanced at the menu. “I’ll have a large classic, and can I get extra olives on that?”

Her fingers danced over the register, ringing up his order. “Sure thing. Anything to drink? And here or to-go?”

He glanced around and saw an empty seat along the row of stools “I’ll eat it here. Bottle of whatever beer is darkest.”

She nodded and finished punching in his order. “Twenty-nine seventy. Lemme grab your beer.” The cashier returned with his open beer and slid it across the counter. 

Steve paid for his pizza with two twenties and shoved most of his change in the tip jar beside the register. He slipped into the empty seat at the counter and sipped his beer, waiting for his order. Just as he finished his beer, and was considering if he wanted another the cashier appeared at his elbow with a steaming pizza on a tray. She reached past him, put his food on the counter, and cleared the empty bottle.

“If you want another beer, it’s four bucks.”

Steve fished a five out of his wallet and handed it to her. “Keep the change.”

She smiled. “Be back in a sec.”

Steve was just biting into his first slice with the cashier came back with his second beer. She laughed at his groan of pleasure. “Good?”

“Ohmygod.” Steve mumbled. “Clint was right.”

“Clint? Dirty blonde guy with a dog. Owns an apartment building in Bedstuy, has freaking amazing arms, and doesn’t have the sense god gave chipmunks?”

Steve nearly choked on his bite of pizza trying not to laugh. “I think his apprentice stole his dog when she moved to California, but yeah, that's Clint.”

The girl grinned. “When you see him next tell him thanks from Maggie.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Anything else?”

“Nope!” the girl replied, popping the p. She smiled again. “Lemme know if you need anything else, Clint’s good people.”

Steve shrugged philosophically and went back to eating his pizza. If Clint wanted to tell him what ‘thanks from Maggie’ meant, he would.

Steve drank his beer, finished his pizza, nodded at the cashier who waved back, and stepped back out to the street. Feeling restless he decided to walk through Hell’s Kitchen, a part of the city he rarely thought of or visited. 

Along the way he thwarted an attempted mugging, put the fear of god into a couple of kids who’d snuck out for some illicit purpose, and helped an elderly woman carry her groceries into her building. He’d just about decided it was time to find a cab and return to Brooklyn when he heard the unmistakable sound of someone being beat up. Without a second thought he began running toward the sound.

He turned the corner at an alley and stopped short. A man in a modestly nice business suit was defending himself against three assailants, and from what Steve could tell doing a decent job of holding his own. 

At least until one of the thugs pulled a knife and slashed at the suited man. The man in the suit leapt backwards, narrowly avoiding being stabbed, only to bring himself in range of one of the other men who struck him in the side, the man in the suit staggered and blocked another blow.

Steve stalked forward and joined the brawl, sucker punching the would be knifer in the back of the head, sending him sprawling forward, unconscious. He stepped over the prone man and grabbed another assailant before he could take a swing at the man in the suit. Steve flung his victim across the alley and called out, “You okay?”

The suited man jerked his head around. “So far so good!” and he ducked under a wild swing only to come up again with a brutal set of jabs to his attackers ribs, driving the other man back. “Thanks for the help!”

“No problem. What’s their problem anyway?” Steve moved around behind the third man and laid him out with a strong cross to the jaw. The last thug folded, as though his strings were cut.

Panting the man in the suit said, “They were mad I wouldn’t take their case.”

Steve arched an eyebrow. “Their case?”

“If I know someone’s a crook or a liar, I won’t take their case. Sometimes people don’t take too kindly to being told no. This is what I get for being a lawyer with a conscious. At least that’s what Foggy says.” The man paused. “I don’t suppose you see a brief case, a pair of glasses, and a cane around do you?”

Steve glanced around and did a double take at the red tipped white cane halfway under a dumpster.He picked up the cane and carefully handed it over. “Names Steve, Steve Rogers.”

The man gave a wry twist of his bloodied mouth. “Matt Murdock. Attorney at law.”

Steve cast around a bit more and eventually found the briefcase. “Found your case, but I still don’t see your glasses.”

Matt sighed. “Pretty sure they got trashed the first time one of these jerks punched me.”

“So...” Steve trailed off, awkwardly.

Matt smirked. “So what’s a blind guy doing in an alley doing a not so bad job of kicking three guys asses?” 

Steve chuckled. “I was trying to find a more tactful way to ask that, but yeah. Basically that in a nutshell.”

One of the thugs began staggering to his feet, Steve took one menacing step toward him. “Scram.” 

The thug lurched forward, got a good look at Steve glowering, turned around, and staggered away.

Matt whistled, “Okay, I know I wasn’t doing anything wrong and I want to leave. That’s impressive.”

Sheepish, Steve grinned. “Tony calls that my ‘I am disappointed in your life choices’ voice.”

“Well it’s very effective. If I could I’d hire you to give all my closing arguments.”

“If my current job ever falls through I’ll keep that in mind. I’m still curious how you’re able to fight if you can’t see.”

Matt adjusted his grip on his cane and brief case. “I can’t see, but I can still perceive. I can hear where someone steps or how their clothes move. I can feel the change in air pressure when they throw a punch. My dad was a boxer, I learned a little about fighting before I lost my vision. Listen, let me buy you a drink, it's the least I can do for your help.”

Steve grinned. “You don’t have to do that.”

“No, I insist. Usually when I get roughed up I have to go it alone. I think my partner and my secretary are about to hire a bodyguard for me.” Matt began walking forward, cane gently tapping.

Steve fell into step beside Matt. “That happens often?”

“More often than you’d think. Foggy’s convinced people go after me because the blind guy is an easy target. And yes, before you ask I have probably heard every joke ever about justice being blind,” answered Matt with a long suffering sigh.

Steve took a longer, more assessing look at his new companion. Matt was fit in a way that he didn’t often see outside of professional soldiers, which seemed counter to the outward appearance of ‘blind lawyer’. Matt did a good job of hiding it, but he walked with a confidence of a fighter. Someone who fought, and won, more often than not. Steve turned over the puzzle of Matt Murdock as they walked.

“Are you from this part of the city?”

Matt smiled. “Born and raised. After my dad died I ended up in the Catholic orphanage, Saint Agnes. I was kind of a little shit, and older too, so I was never adopted. The nuns got me through school and then I went off to college where I met my business partner, Foggy. How about you? I hear a bit of Brooklyn in your voice, but it’s a little off.”

“I’m older than most people think. But I’m from Brooklyn. I was away for a long time, moved around a bit, landed in DC for a while, but I recently moved back.”

“What do you do when you aren’t helping blind lawyers?”

“Hard to explain really. I’m sort of a security specialist.”

“Top secret, hush-hush or just a guy who provides security?”

Steve chuckled. “A little of both.”

“So, what brought you down to Hell’s Kitchen? Not exactly a destination location for most people.”

“Pizza. My associate Clint promised that the best slice in all of New York was in Hell’s Kitchen.” Steve replied easily. 

“Ah! Another Bruno’s convert.” Said Matt, knowingly with a nod.

“How’d you know I meant Bruno’s?”

“Process of elimination. There are only four pizza places in Hell’s Kitchen. Two are crappy chain places. One is so-so, but they deliver. And the other is Bruno’s which is a class by itself, but the owner refuses to set up delivery, so it means people come from all over the city to get their fix. Plus, you smell like you’ve been in there.”

Steve’s eyebrows shot up. “I _smell_ like I’ve been in there?!” The skepticism was evident in his voice.

“They use a lot of garlic and basil in their sauce. You spend an hour in there and pick up a bit of the scent. Hardly the worst thing to smell like.” Matt suddenly stopped. “Here we are,” and he turned to enter the bar.

Matt called out a greeting to the bartender. “Josie! Two beers and two whiskies.”

Josie tisked as she looked at Matt’s split lip, “You walk into a door again Murdock?”

“Nah, some dickheads fist. Didn’t like that I wouldn’t take a case. My friend here came along before I got beaten too badly so I’m buying him ‘Thank you for not letting my sorry ass end up in a dumpster, again.’ drinks.”

Josie shook her head and poured their drinks. “You’re a menace Murdock,” and she went to go check on her other customers.

Matt picked up his beer and held it out. “Thank you for not letting me get beat up too badly. Here’s to new friends.”

Steve clinked his own glass against Matt’s. “You’re welcome. So what did you mean by ‘end up in a dumpster, again’?”

“Long, long, long story. Suffice to say I was embarrassingly stupid, got in more trouble than I could handle, and got thrown in a dumpster. I’d like to say I learned my lesson, but I probably haven’t.”

Steve took a long pull of his beer. “You aren’t like any lawyer I’ve ever met before.”

“Meet a lot of lawyers?”

“Enough. Most of the ones I’ve met are more interested in making a buck than saying no to a client.”

Matt grimaced. “As much as I love the law, I really hate the reputation the profession has.”

“Why’d you decide to practice law in Hell’s Kitchen anyway?”

“This is where I’m from. Look I know this part of the city has a pretty shitty reputation, but it isn’t going to get better if people who care about it don’t try to make it a better place. For me that means defending the people who live here.” Matt made a frustrated noise. “You ever just do something because it was the right thing to do, logic be damned?”

Steve took a sip of his whiskey and pulled a face at the burn. “I think I’ve had some experience with that.”

“So why do you do it?” Matt tilted his head to the side, curious.

Steve rolled his tumbler back and forth between his hands and watched the amber liquid slosh. “Because I hate bullies. Always have. Always will. I got knocked down more times than I could count when I was a kid because I didn’t know when to back down.”

Matt nodded and knocked back his liquor. “That, my new friend, is why I practice law in Hell’s Kitchen.”

Steve follow suit and set his glass down on the counter. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Thanks for the rescue.”

“You need any help getting home?” 

“Nah, I’ll get Josie to call me a cab. You ever need a good lawyer, let me know.” Matt said, extending his hand.

Steve took the proffered hand and shook it. “Will do. And take care.”

“You too.” Matt said with a smile.

Letting himself out into the night Steve pondered the conundrum of Matt Murdock. A ethical attorney. A blind man who saw with his ears. A defender of people and himself.

Afterwards Steve still didn’t often find himself in Hell’s Kitchen, but when he did he made a point to stop by the offices of Nelson and Murdock with a large pizza from Bruno’s.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For as little as Steve found himself in Hell’s Kitchen (slightly more often now that he knew about Bruno’s), Captain America found himself there even less frequently. Villains wanted high profile targets; Wall Street, Central Park, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Avengers Tower, or City Hall.
> 
> Someone apparently had forgotten to give the current mad scientist du jour the memo though, since there were rat-men hauling themselves out of the manhole covers in Hell’s Kitchen and wreaking havoc at ten forty-five on a Thursday night.
> 
> Or the one where Matt and Steve meet in costume.

For as little as Steve found himself in Hell’s Kitchen (slightly more often now that he knew about Bruno’s), Captain America found himself there even less frequently. Villains wanted high profile targets; Wall Street, Central Park, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Avengers Tower, or City Hall.

Someone apparently had forgotten to give the current mad scientist du jour the memo though, since there were rat-men hauling themselves out of the manhole covers in Hell’s Kitchen and wreaking havoc at ten forty-five on a Thursday night.

The Avengers, along with a small tactical force were called out to try to contain the problem and catch the culprit.

They’d corralled most of the rat-men when Clint called over the coms, “Captain, I just spotted four more of these guys coming up two blocks over to your east.”

“Copy that Hawkeye. Who do we have in that quadrant?” Steve ducked away from a grasping claw and clocked a creature with his shield. There were a lot of them, but they weren’t terribly bright.

“Natasha was down that way, but she had to chase a runner. Tony’s was netting up a pack of these things six blocks south, but sounds like he’ll be doing that a while. I’m sitting on our scientist till the cops get here to take him away. You’re closest boss.”

Steve muttered a curse and took off at a run. “Understood Hawkeye. I’m enroute. Natasha, if you catch your runner double back, lets make sure this is the last pack of these things.”

“Copy that Cap. Not sure I’ll make it back in time. This one’s running like its tail is on fire.”

To himself Steve sighed, “Of course it is,” and continued his run to intercept.

Clint’s pack of four turned out to be a pack of eleven.

The rats weren’t skilled fighters, but in numbers they became more fearless. Three of them darted forward and grabbed on to the edges of his shield and were hanging on tenaciously when a man dressed in a dark tactical suit wearing a cowl vaulted into the fight. For a split second Steve couldn’t tell if the new fighter was friend of foe, and then he watched him execute an acrobatic flying kick to the head and torso of one of the rats.

“Need a hand?” Called the new fighter.

Steve grunted with the effort of yanking his shield free. “I won’t say no to an assist. The rest of my team already have packs cornered.”

“Happy to help.” The man in red and black took down another rat.

They fought the pack efficiently until they were standing and their opponents weren’t. 

Steve caught his breath. “Thanks again. There were more of them here than Hawkeye said there’d be.”

The man in red cocked his head to the side and blurted, “Steve?!”

Steve blinked. His identity as Captain America wasn’t a secret, but he couldn’t think of anyone off the top of his head who would only know him as Steve Rogers and be surprised to find him saving the city as Captain America. Unless the person would have never seen his face or a newspaper to connect him to his alter ego.

In the dim street light Steve took a closer look at his companion. Same height and build as a certain blind lawyer. Though the horns on the cowl gave a passing impression of slightly more height.

The man in red shifted, his stance defensive, as though he realized he’d just given something away. Daredevil took half a step back and his face shifted ever so slightly more into the light, revealing a familiar jaw line and five-o’clock shadow.

Steve began laughing. “You aren’t nearly as clumsy as you pretend to be, are you? I mean Karen thinks she needs to bundle you up in bubble wrap because she’s convinced you’re just one short step from breaking your neck falling down the stairs.”

“And you’re Captain America. How did I miss that?” Matt said, sounding annoyed.

“Sometimes it’s nice to just be Steve Rogers from Brooklyn who comes to Hell’s Kitchen for pizza and cheap beer. I think your partner knows, but he never made a thing about it. To be fair, it’s not something I go around proclaiming from rooftops.” Said Steve with a wry grin.

Matt snorted.

Steve shouldered his shield. “So, Daredevil? Who came up with that?”

“Apparently scaling walls and jumping off buildings isn’t normal behavior. Also, it was better than the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” Matt tilted his head, listening. “Your teammates will be here soon. Listen... I keep this secret to keep people safe. Foggy knows because, well it’s too long to tell, but Karen doesn’t. The more people who know the more dangerous it is. For them. For me.”

Steve nodded and then caught himself. “I won’t tell anyone. Though you might want to tell Karen before she decides you need a seeing eye dog.”

“Thank you. That means a lot.”

“Tell you what, I’ll come around in a few days, we can get a drink and you can tell me how this all started.” Steve’s tone was less of a request and more of a declaration.

“It’s a long story.” Matt warned.

“I’ll make the time.” Steve promised.

Before he could say anything else, Matt turned and ran, bolting down an alley. Steve watched as Matt vaulted onto a closed dumpster jumped for the bottom of a fire escape, swung up like a gymnast, and shimmied up the side of a building.

Fairly certain he’d be heard Steve said, “If you’re in the habit of doing that to get out of meeting people I can see why they call you ‘Daredevil’ in the papers.”

He turned around and saw Clint and Natasha coming around the corner at a dead run. They stopped and stared at the unconscious and disabled rat-men laying in the street.

Clint put the arrow he had in his hand back in his quiver. “See Nat, he’s totally got this under control.”

Steve grinned. “To be fair, I did get an assist.”

Natasha looked around. “From the invisible man?”

“Daredevil actually.”

“He exists?!” Clint’s expression was disbelieving.

Natasha gave him a curious look. “Who is he?” 

“Don’t know, he wears a mask, but he’s good in a fight. Let’s get these guys tied up. Who do we even call for rat-people? The pound or the police?”

Clint began securing wrists. “We went for the police in this case. They’re genetically modified, but they have human level intelligence.”

Steve sighed. “You know when I said I wanted to see the future as a kid, somehow rat-people weren’t ever on the list.”

Several days later, a little after five in the afternoon, Steve opened the door of the Nelson and Murdock offices balancing two boxes of pizza on one arm, with a six pack of beer in his other hand. 

Matt called from his office. “Just a second.”

“Where’s Foggy and Karen?”

“Foggy went downtown to file something for a case, he said something about seeing Marci after that. And Karen is... I actually don’t know. She said she needed to go run an errand and she’d be back tomorrow. I’m just trying to put some notes together for a robbery and arson case that’s going to trial.”

Steve set down the pizza and beer on meeting room table. “Robbery and arson, that sounds serious.”

“What’s serious is how much of a joke the prosecutions case is.” Matt’s grin was wolfish. “I’m going to have so much fun taking them apart.” His grin slipped away. “Is this a social or business call?”

Steve uncapped a beer and held it out. “A little of both. You can’t blame me for being curious how a blind man fights crime as a vigilante.”

Matt took the bottle and settled in one of the chairs. “Somedays I’m better at it than others.”

Steve opened his own bottle with a snort and took a seat. “Not really what I meant.”

“Is this where you ask me if I’m really blind?” 

“No. I’m sure you’re blind. There’s no reason for you to pretend that. I’m just wondering how you do what you do.”

Matt gave a thoughtful sounding hum. “Remember what I said when we met. How I can’t see, but I can still perceive?”

Steve got up and brought plates from the kitchen nook back to the conference table. “Yeah.”

“It’s like all my other senses are turned up to eleven. I get a picture with sound.” Almost as though he could see Steve’s incredulous look he amended. “A very good picture.”

“So why go vigilante?” 

Matt didn’t hear any censure in Steve’s voice, just honest curiosity. He sighed and told Steve the same story he’d told Foggy when he’d discovered Matt’s nocturnal hobby. “I’ll hurt the hell out of someone, but I’m not killing.”

Steve handed Matt a plate with a couple of slices of pizza. “You helped bring Fisk down doing what you’re doing, didn’t you?” 

“I had help. A lot of help. And it cost a lot of lives. But, if I had it to do over, I know I’d try harder to save Ben and Mrs. Cardenas, but I’d also make a lot of the same choices. I think the city and Hell’s Kitchen are safer with Fisk behind bars” Matt began eating.

With a sigh Steve took his own bite, and chased it with a mouthful of beer. “Look, I can’t say that I agree with your methods. You’re working outside of the law.”

“I work with the law too, you know.” Defended Matt.

“I’m sure you do. I’m just making an observation. If you ever get caught, a lot of your cases could be thrown out.” Steve observed. “I don’t know a lot about law, but I’m sure the legal system would take a dim view of an attorney moonlighting as a masked defender.”

Matt gave him a mulish look. “Then I’d better not get caught.”

Steve switched topics. “What happens when you get injured? I’m assuming super hearing doesn’t mean super strength or healing.”

“I have a friend. She’s a nurse. We have a system of burner phones. If it’s something that needs more medical attention than I can give myself out of my first aid kit of butterfly bandages and ibuprofen I call her.”

“How’d she find out about all this?”

Matt smiled wryly. “She found me in a dumpster.”

Steve had taken a poorly timed swallow of beer and found himself sputtering in laughter. “Really?!”

“You know how I once said I was stupid and got thrown in a dumpster? I was knifed and pretty badly beat up. Some Russian mobsters who ran a human trafficking ring used a little boy as bait to draw me out. It worked like a charm and they got the drop on me. I barely escaped.”

“I assume you put an end to that?”

“To that human trafficking ring.” Matt confirmed. “But others crop up. Evil abhors a vacuum.” 

“Evil isn’t natural.” Argued Steve.

“Maybe. Maybe not. I just know that I see a lot of it when there are people who are less fortunate that can be exploited or taken advantage of.” Was Matt’s rejoinder.

Steve frowned. “That’s a pretty bleak point of view.”

“It is, but it’s also only one point of view. When Fisk was trying to flatten Hell’s Kitchen there was also a lot of good. People taking care of each other, making sure that everyone had somewhere to cook a hot meal.” Matt reached into the top pizza box and took another slice. 

They ate in silence a while. Steve finished his first beer and opened another. Finally he said, “I don’t know that I agree with you, but I can respect what you’re trying to do, and why you’re doing it.”

“Thank you,” Matt murmured.

Steve continued, “I get the feeling you don’t have a lot of back up. I don’t know that I can offer you official Avengers support, but I think we can at least set up a burner phone system like what you have with your nurse friend and give you some additional resources if you get in over your head.”

Matt’s opened and closed his mouth a few times, flabbergasted. Eventually he simply said, “Thank you,” again.

Steve shook his head, “Don’t thank me yet.”

Suspicious, Matt pulled back. “Why not?”

“Because if you ever step over the line and become judge, jury, and executioner I’ll be back. I can promise that won’t be a pleasant conversation.” Steve’s voice was cold.

“You’ve killed.” Mat stated, boldly.

“I have.” Steve admitted. “I have and I hate doing it. But our roles are different. You’re doing this to skirt around the law, or to bring people to justice that would otherwise slip under the radar. I’ve done it because I was either enlisted in a war, defending the planet against aliens, or an organization trying to overthrow the government.”

“Still seems hypocritical of you.”

“I’m not saying it isn’t. I’m just saying that unless its in defense of your life, try to avoid killing anyone.” 

Matt finished his beer. “I think I can do that. That all?”

“Mind if I still come around, just to say hi?” 

“Can I stop you?”

“I won’t come if I’m not wanted.” Steve said his voice ernest.

“Nah,” Matt said. “I think Foggy and Karen would disown me if you stopped coming around. You always bring pizza and beer.”

“Well in that case I’ll leave the rest of the pizza here for them tomorrow. Let them know I stopped by?” Steve stood up to go.

“Will do. They’ll be sorry they missed you,” he said, standing. 

Matt extended his hand, and Steve clasped it firmly. “We may not see eye to eye,” began Steve.

“Or at all.” Matt sniped.

Steve began laughing. “And Clint calls me a troll.”

“I get the feeling this is a ‘takes one to know one’ situation.” Replied Matt with a smirk.

“Fine. We may not agree, but I meant what I said about getting you a way to reach out if you need it. I’ll be in touch in a day or two.”

Matt nodded. “It’s appreciated.”

Steve opened the door and stepped into the hall, he paused. “I’ve got to ask, aren’t the horns a bit much?”

Throwing his hands in the air Matt complained. “Everyone’s a critic, but no one ever stops to consider a blind guy isn’t going to be that great at costume design.”

Chuckling Steve shut the door and made his way down to the street.

Back in his office Matt opened another beer and considered his conversation with Steve. He realized the usual anxiety and stress that came from someone discovering his alter ego was missing. After a moment he had the thought that he wouldn’t need to worry about someone hurting Captain America for information on the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. 

Later that night he perched on a rooftop, listening. He whirled around when he heard the scuff of a boot behind him. 

A woman spoke in an easy alto. “Easy there cowboy. I come in peace. A mutual red, white, and blue friend of ours asked me to come by and bring you something.” 

Matt heard her take something out of a pocket.

“Cap had Tony throw something together for you as a distress beacon.” She held the object out and he took it from her. It was a small rectangle, about the third the size of his smartphone and smooth except for a small switch set in a groove running along one side.

“How does it work?” 

“Just throw the switch all the way from one side of the thing to the other.”

“That’s it?”

“So Tony says.”

“Tony? As in Tony Stark?”

The woman sighed. “Yes. Cap also said he’ll get a burner phone you can use, just as soon as he can.”

“I... Thank you. So, why are you running Steve’s errands?”

“He asked me to. He also said you’ve had problems with human trafficking rings cropping up down here that no one really seems interested in doing anything about. I wanted to let you know the next time that happens call Steve. Clint and I have some... strong feelings about organizations that think that people are things to be bought or sold.”

The corner of Matt’s mouth quirked. “Why do I get the sense that your ‘strong feelings’ tend to express themselves in bloodshed?” 

Natasha shrugged. “Can’t let you have all the fun.”

“You have a very strange idea of fun.”

“I see why Steve likes you,” she said with a laugh.

“Thanks.” Matt paused. “I think.”

“See you around, Daredevil.”

Matt heard Natasha take a running start and he listened to her trajectory as she vaulted off the roof, caught the edge of a fire escape, and swung down.

He turned over the distress beacon in his hand and eventually slipped into a pocket. He might have to go it alone in Hell’s Kitchen most of the time, but maybe having a friend or two would be okay.


End file.
